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Summary: Cort and Evalyn encounter some trouble.
Date: December 6, 1882
Confrontation
Doctor's Office
Humming could be heard from the recovery room followed by the sounds of sweeping. The humming turns into sounds of soft song. As the door opens, a small bell chimes over the door and the singing and sweeping stops. A friendly, feminine voice calls out, "Be right out!"
"Do take your time, Missus. He needn't see anyone right away, no cause at all to hurry, none at all." The accent is distinctly Irish. A low thud can be heard, and the man with a brogue growls out, "Doyanow, bucko?" Silence from the other man.
A second of silence fills the room and almost imediately after the sound of the man thudding onto the floor is heard in the office, a concerned face peeks out from the doorway. "Oh goodness me!" Evalyn exclaims. The red-headed woman emerges immediately from the room and bustles quickly into the room.
Cort stands in the center of the room, a man stretched across his shoulders in what will (in the future) be known as a fireman's carry. Cort himself is unharmed, but the other man looks as though someone has really worked him over. His face is barely visible underneath the black blood. "Few broken ribs, I expect, madam," explains the Irishman - and then dumps the man roughly on the floor and kicks him once, very hard. "Least, now there are."
Evalyn gasps as he kicks the man in the ribs. "Mister Talbot! This is a place of healing. What happens outside this place is your business, but if you bring me a patient, do not create him more harm while past these doors!" She chastises in an almost motherly tone in great disaproval. She moves over to the man and positions herself between the two men. Kneeling low, she looks over the unconscious man studiously. A frown crosses her features and she looks up to him. "Now.. if you would be so kind… and help me move him to a bed… without harming him furthur? I do believe he is of no consequence in this state… so please.."
Cort manages to somehow look smug and sheepish at the same time, leaning down to scoop the man back up onto his shoulders and bouncing him - just enough to hurt, just little enough to seem accidental - as he settles him into place. "Teach the bugger to slap a woman about," he grumbles, and follows Evalyn toward the recovery room. "I do apologize, madam. But he earned it and more, I assure you."
Evalyn guides him into the recovery room and to a bed near the window. She listens to the tale and nods. "We all make mistakes from time to time. Please, lie him here." She moves to a basin filled with water and retrieves a clean bandage, dipping it into the cool water. "I do believe the man will be alright, simply needs observation for now. I am hoping he does not have any internal injuries after that kick…" She moves back to the bed, waiting for him to lie the man into the bed.
Cort walks to the bed and leans over it, setting the man down with mock-tenderness. "There now, me bucko," he coos. The man murmurs something, blood dripping from his mouth, and Cort says "Ah. How could I forget?" He reaches inside the man's jacket, produces his wallet, and tosses it toward the foot of the bed and Evalyn. "For your troubles, madam."
Evalyn moves towards the man and begins to clean the man's bloody face with the washcloth. For a moment she is silent as she tends the wounds. The glancing up to Corth. "I do hope that I did not sound to harsh. I simply take my work very seriously." She glances to the man lying in the bed. "As I see that you take yours seriously."
Cort absently blows on his knuckles, nodding to Evalyn. He looks down at the man with a flat, unfriendly expression. "It's nothing personal, madam, at all. I quite understand." He smiles faintly at her. "Will it hurt him if I flick the bruises a few times?"
Evalyn furrows her brows and purses her lips disaprovingly. "Do not make me chase you out of here with my broom!" She even goes so far as to stamp her foot! The boot strikes the wooden surface of the floor. Then pointing to him, she waggles a finger. "And do not think that I will not do it!"
"Relax, my lovely lass, I was merely jesting. Sort of." The tall Irishman frowns down at the battered figure before him. "He struck one of my girls," explains Cort. "He's lucky I wasn't the first one into that room, or he would've been pushing his guts back into his fat little belly."
Evalyn retracts the finger and folds her arms across her chest. "That is very understandable good sir. It is very valliant of you to protect the ladies there. However, once the patient is brought to me, that means the fight is over." She sighs and moves to the basin, dipping the cloth into the water. Crimson blood taints the water, instantly discoloring it. Lifting the cloth, she wrings it out, the tainted water dripping from the cloth. "Are you injured in any way sir?" she casts a bright blue gaze over her shoulder to him.
"Just a few busted knuckles, I believe," says Cort mildly. He checks himself over, winces as he pats his chest. "Well, and the bully lad did strike me a solid blow or three, but I doubt anything's broken. No reason to get all..medical with me." A wry, teasing grin. "I'm afraid of nurses, I am."
Evalyn arches a red brow over the unusually bright blue eyes. A smile graces her features and she puffs up just a bit. "And that you should be!" She couldn't hide the giggle. "Never heard of anyone being afraid of me though.." She moves back to the injured man and continues to wash his face, dabbing at the oozing wounds. "Looks like I will have to suture his brow there. Everything else on his face is simple swelling and bruising."
Leaning over Evalyn's shoulder to peer at the man's injuries, Cort lets out a disappointed sigh. "I don't think I hit him hard enough," he remarks. "Don't supposed y'd let me try again, if I'm particularly charming?" He glances aside at Evalyn and winks.
Evalyn turns her gaze to look directly at him. "No." Her voice is firm.. well as firm as Evalyn could get. "Shall I get the broom?" She quirks a brow and turns back to her work. Setting the cloth to the side, she turns back and begins to work at the man's shirt. "But.. if you would be so kind and to help me disrobe him so that I can inspect the rest of him?"
Evalyn sighs in relief to that news, though she winces as a b utton pops off the shirt and strikes her in the forehead. "Ow!" A slender hand moves up to rub at the offended spot and she looks to Cort again with a frown. Though the task was done and she moves to inspect the torso of the man and the sides. A bruise was obviously forming where he had been kicked. Slender fingers probe at the ribcage. The man winces and mumbles something incoherently as she probes. "Yes.. I believe two of the ribs are broken. But fortunately, they have not moved out of place.. wait.." She places the palm of her hand expertly against the side and the sound of bone grinding on bone is heard as she presses on the side. "There we go…"
"I'd've done that for free, I would," remarks Cort with a laugh. "He'll live, then?" He seems genuinely concerned, peering down at the man's face. "Mmm, but he did take a few hard hits, didn't he?" The lean Irishman clucks his tongue gently. "Let me buy you breakfast, my dear Nurse, as a way of apologizing."
Evalyn finishes what she was doing and pulls the blanket up and over the form of the now sleeping man. "Breakfast?" She turns to look to him. "Oh you must never apologize for expect me to do my job." She grins to him. "But, nonetheless. Breakfast would be lovely."
"I am apologizing, madam, for making you care for him at all. I hope he lives to come out of your protection." Cort smiles, a touch wolfishly, and offers his arm to Evalyn. "Come, I've found this small boarding house that prepares the most delectable freshly-baked bread." He winks. "And I dearly doubt I'll have to harm anyone." Cort looks out the window; the sun is mostly risen, and it is likely seven in the morning. "Unless this one has friends."
Evalyn glances to the extended arm and offers a grin. She extends her own arm, hooking it into his. "Well, freshly baked bread is always desirable. It would give me sweet relief from my own cooking…" Her arm curls up inside his and she allows him to lead.
"Anything regarding you must, by nature, be sweet." Somehow, the Irishman manages to make even a corny gallantry sound as though he is mocking himself. He escorts Evalyn toward the door, looking back at the man on the bed. "Y'don't have any friends, do ya, bucko?" The sleeping man doesn't answer.
Streets of Silver Creek
As the charming pair exit the Doctor's Office, three men shove themselves off of the wall against which they have been, none too steadily, leaning. "Hey, you," says one. Cort groans softly, turns to Evalyn, says lightly "Whod've thought it? Wait inside, dearest." The three men are approaching, not bothering to hide their intent. Cort releases Evalyn's arm and gives her a gentle push back toward the Doctor's Office.
Evalyn steps back from the aproaching group, blue eyes blinking. "Come now gentlemen.. we can come to some sort of arangement through peaceful means?" Always the pacifist, Evalyn attempts to diffuse the situation. People going about their business along the road pause to take in the scene.
Cort smiles easily at the approaching men, reaches down into his boot, and comes back up with a small, though very sharp-looking knife. "Alright, my lads, alright." The appearance of a weapon seems to give the men pause - none are bearing guns. "Shall we make this bloody, or shall we keep it to fisticuffs?" He smiles aside at Evalyn, says again, "Please go inside." One of the men - apparently, their spokesman, answers both of them. "Ain't nobody gotta die. But somebody gotta pay for roughing up Rufus."
Evalyn frowns. "Well if Rufus would keep his hands to himself, then the guards of the Gemstone would not have to rough them up!" She ruffles up a bit, still trying to stop the fight. "Look, how about a cup of tea? He is inside and well. Would you gentlemen care to come visit your friend in a peaceful manner?" She steps furthur back, though wary of the impending fight. One of the men laugh, "Ya might wanna tell your little woman over there to watch how she talks to men."
"I would, if I'd ever seen her address any but m'self." Cort's brogue is no longer sophisticated, nor is the man who shrugs out of his coat and lets it fall to the dirt. His sleeves are already rolled up, bearing a number of scars, and the knife remains in his hand. "D'ya care t'dance, little kitty?" He asks the spokesperson. One of the other men is circling off to Cort's left, and the tall Irishman's gray eyes flicker over to track him.
As one man circles towards her, she makes a sound similar to a squeak and retreats back to the .. 'safety' of the porch in front of the office. Thankfully the men's attention seem intent on Cort. Blue eyes dart back and forth as if looking for a way to diffuse the situation. Then.. she spies her broom…
Cort's taunt seems to have sent things over the edge, and with a roar, the spokesperson rushes Cort. The others hesitate before following suit. The Irishman waits patiently, knife in hand, until the leader is almost on top of him. He sidesteps, ducks, and slams his shoulder into the man's stomach, grabbing him by the thigh with his free hand and flipping him clean over his back. As the man hits the dirt, Cort has continued to run forward, and spins to face the other two, a broad grin splitting his lean features. "C'mon, then, y'little girls. Come an' make me pay fer poor Rufus, eh, shall ya, then?"
Evalyn reaches out to snatch at the broom that leans against the wall of the building. She ruffles up, clearly distraught at the fighting in front of her place of business.. and her home. "Why I…" Lifting her skirts with her free hand, the suddenly miffed nurse proceeds forward towards the back of one of the men. Using both hands she sweeps the broom downwards, striking the man on the back. "Now I said stop!!!"
Tiffany winces sympathetically as she watches.
The man curses, wheels around, and throws a punch toward Evalyn's stomach. Cort couldn't be more surprised. He stares at the ensuing disaster for a moment too long, and the other man slams his fist into the bearded Irishman's jaw. Suddenly, Cort's reeling backward, the first of the cowpokes is rising, and God knows what's happening with Evalyn's broom. "This ain' funny anymore," sulks the Irishman as he adjusts his grip on the still-unblooded knife.
Bright blue eyes widen as the punch lands square on target. She doubles over, the broom falling from her hands and clattering onto the ground by her feet. A groan escapes her lips and she crumples to her knees on the ground.
Tiffany says, "Oh my!"
Tiffany moves quickly down the road to get away from the fight.
Seeing Evalyn crumble to the ground, Cort seems to be unleashed. He coils inward for a moment, before launching himself at the man who struck her, knife-tip leading the way. It rips into the man's inner thigh, and Cort's shoulder hits the man's chest a moment later, sending him reeling backward and gushing black blood. The next man who lunges in, trying to tackle him, spins away with a bloody cheek. Cort stands over Evalyn, eyeing the two men warily, as a larger crowd begins to gather. The wounded man is lying on his back, hand clamped to his thigh, moaning as blood gushes past his fingers.
Evalyn coughs a time or two and writhes a bit in pain. Though she soon begins to move, crawling a bit to get out of the way of the fight. She does not pay attention to the bleeding man that had just thrown the punch into her stomach.
Nor does Cort. He's quite busy, as the other two come back into play, one still bleeding from his cheek. "Fuckin' amateurs!" snarls the Irishman, and suddenly, there is a lot more blood - and the first dead man. Cort's knife is buried under the man's chin for a moment before he rips it out, the corpse hitting the dirt as the lean Irishman wheels to the side, slamming the gory blade into the spokesman's bicep. He screams, punches Cort hard in the gut, and makes the Irishman lose his grip on the knife. Cort slams into him and the two collapse into the dirt, scrabbling about in the spreading pools of blood. There is a scream, but it's hard to tell from which one.
Evalyn reaches for the rail that surrounds the porch of the office. She uses it to pull herself up and turns to look back to the fight. She seems absolutely horrified at the scene that unfolds before her. All she can do is blink a time or two, though continues to retreat towards the building, stepping up onto the porch.
"WOMAN-BEATIN' SON OF A WHORE!" That is -very- clearly Cort, as he rolls off the man beneath him and pushes himself to his feet. He has a few gashes and bruises on his face, and by the way he's clenching his arm to his side, a few other hurts as well. The man beneath him is dead, missing an eye, and Cort leans down to rip the knife out of his arm, before taking two steps away from his body and collapsing. His index finger is covered in blood and other fluids.
Evalyn takes a moment to recollect herself, looking over the scene. The crowd obviously gathered around seems to stand in awe of the scene. A frown touches Evalyn's face. "Well.. don't just stand there!" She exclaims to the crowd. She is a bit edgy and irritated. A large black man pushes through the crowd and looks at the scene before them. With a grunt, the one known as Buck moves towards Cort, lifting him up like a ragdoll and putting him over his shoulders. The deep burly voice comes from the black man's chest as he speaks to Evalyn. "Where ya want dis man?" Evalyn blinks up at Buck and points to the door. "Inside.. please…" She is recovering from the blow and moves to the door, pushing it open for Buck.
Doctor's Office
Cort is hauled inside by his (relatively good friend and fellow bouncer) Buck, his knife clenched loosely in his left hand. Outside, the bodies remain where they lie. Cort tries to lift his head to look back at them, gives up, and slouches down somewhat as he's taken indoors. "Get m'coat, dearest," he murmurs softly.
Evalyn moves back into the street to snatch up the coat. She looks to the blood splattered area and to the dead men. She moves after Cort and into the Doctor's office, following the massive black man. "Take him in there please…" She points to the recovery room. She scurries past them and leads the way inside and over to a bed that is close to a cabinet filled with supplies.
Cort is laid down on the table. "Lemme up, Buck.." he groans. "I can stand. Just got the wind knocked outta me." He tries to sit up, seems to hover halfway between sitting and laying, propped up on one elbow. "Three fer one…an' ne'er let it be said Cort Talbot's lost his touch."
Evalyn rubs at her stomach tenderly as she moves over to him. "You did handle yourself well out there…" She glances to Buck who folds his massive arms across his chest. She glances to the other man laid out by the window, frowning. "So much fussing… and over what… this makes absolutely no sense to me!" She moves over to Cort. "Now.. let me take a look at you.." She gives an audible sigh.
Cort sets his still-dripping knife down and begins to unbutton his shirt, wincing. His ribs are purpling already, and he looks as though he'll have a fine shiner. The cut over his brow isn't too serious, but it will likely scar. "Fools," he murmurs softly. "Bloody fools haven't seen anythin' until they've seen the Orangemen come."
Evalyn takes a look to the ribs first. "Now see.. you have a matching side to your companion over there." She points to the sleeping man in the other bed. She probes at the tender spot. "Sorry about this, I am feeling for broken bones." Her gaze turns to Buck as he speaks. "Cannot leave them men out there. I am gonna go tend to them and drag their carcasses to the undertaker." Evalyn smiles to the man. "Thank you Buck." As the oversized man lumbers out of the room, Evalyn sets her gaze on Cort, probing furthur.
Cort winces, screwing his eyes up to the ceiling. "Hardly the way I imagined a woman's hand on me," he confesses. As his adrenaline comes down, he seems to recapture some of his earlier gentility. "I..-am sorry-..that I didn't get to buy you brea…OW..breakfast."
Evalyn frowns a bit. "Well, there are no gross breaks in your side here, but I am going to wrap it up nonetheless. You will have to take it easy until the buising and pain subsides." She moves over to the cabinet, reaching for some bandaging. "Please remove your shirt."
Cort shrugs off his shirt the rest of the way. "Don't suppose -he- can pay for me, as well." Cort points toward Rufus, the man who sparked this whole conflict and who still sleeps, oblivious. "And I don't suppose you've a tub I could rent? I'd like to wash my clothes." His shirt -is- a bit blood-splattered.
Evalyn smiles. "I am sure that your employer will pay. Besides, you stood up for me out there. Money is no real object to be honest. I will not charge you." She pauses by his bed and looks to his bruising torso. "But… next time.. I will have to charge you double." She gives a playful wink.
Cort grins in response. "Next time, dearest, I shall buy you breakfast." He glances back out at the street, winces. "I did stand up for you." He shakes his head wryly. "So I have to be wrapped, do I?"
Evalyn cants her head slightly. "You may have some relief if i wrap your torso. It will give extra support to tender muscles and bruised flesh. Your ribs may have some cracks in them as well, but that is hard to tell unless I cut you open to look. Even then there would be nothing I could do." She gives him a smile.
"No cutting," grimaces Cort. Which is interesting - bearing the scars on his body in mind, it's pretty clear that someone's cut on him before, and not always in bar brawls. He looks to have had a few operations, probably to do with the bullet hole near his shoulder. "Wrap it, then. And my thanks, beautiful nurse."
Evalyn offers a sift smile before she begins to work. "I wouldn't cut on you anyways." Her hands are remarkably gentle… when not probing on the tender bruise. It is not long before the torso is wrapped, providing extra support to the injured side. "Now, if the bandage becomes dirty, let me know and I could easily wrap it again for you." She steps away from him and moves to the basin by his bed, dipping a cloth into it. She steps up to him and dabs at the cut on his brow.
A slow exhalation, and Cort looks over at the bloody knife. "I do apologize for that," he says mildly, his manners entirely returned to him. "I fear I might perhaps have over-reacted. At least one of those blokes didn't deserve to die." A faint, wry smile. "You don't suppose the bruisers will want to arrest me, do you?"
Evalyn shrugs lightly. "There was a large crowd that witnessed the fight. And of course myself. You were merely defending yourself." She dabs at the eyes a bit more until it is cleaned to her satisfaction. "I doubt they will come for you, though there may be questions asked."
A melancholy seems to drape itself over the man; he accepts Evalyn's ministrations without protest. "I hate bruisers," he observes softly. "Should've just shot the buggers and run, and damn the incivility of it."
Evalyn shakes her head a bit. She looks to the bloodied shirt. "If you like, i can wash that for you. I have a wash basin upstairs. It is a bit on the heavy side to bring down the narrow stairs."
"If you don't mind, my dear, that would be positively civilized of you. I could accompany you - propriety permitting, of course - and wait for the men to come, question me, and go about their business. And then I'd be just where I needed, in order to be patched up again." There is a cynical bite to his voice, though his words are probably unwarranted here in the States.
